


i'm always tired but never of you

by extremelyquestionable (TechnicalTragedy)



Category: The Derp Crew (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5061238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicalTragedy/pseuds/extremelyquestionable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony's presence hurts more than the black eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm always tired but never of you

**Author's Note:**

> [Anonymous said](http://extremelyquestionable.tumblr.com/post/131057415087/title-im-always-tired-but-never-of-you-pairing): Royalchaos based off of [I hate u I love u by gnash](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pINZzadd2jM) pls

Steven sips at his coffee, right eye lined with a bruise and left red-rimmed. His fingers twitch against the mug in his hand, his bloody knuckles in stark contrast to the off-white of the chipped ceramic.

Anthony’s fingers are laced on the table between them, a boundary as if he’s trying to protect himself from Steven, something that doesn’t escape Steven’s notice.

“Why…” Anthony starts, doesn’t finish, letting the word hang in the air like a stray, meaningless sound.

Steven swallows another gulp of scalding coffee, before setting it down, hand still curled around its warmth. “Why what?”

“You know,” Anthony says. He’s staring at his fingers, eyes not budging. Steven understands why maybe Anthony wouldn’t want to look at him, knows how fucked up his face feels right now, but he’d still appreciate at least a glance.

Steven drums the fingers of his free hand on the tabletop, trying to attract Anthony’s attention, but all he gets is a frown. “I’ve been lonely, these past few months,” he says, not really an answer, and Anthony detects it.

“That’s not why you did it. Loneliness doesn’t equate to going and willingly getting the shit beat out of yourself,” Anthony says, voice caustic and just painful enough to remind Steven of what they are now.

Steven tucks his other hand back around the coffee mug, bringing it back to his mouth and letting the liquid burn his tongue as he formulates a response. He licks at his swollen lip, cradling the mug in his hand. “Do you know how much I miss you? I fucked around a lot, yeah. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t really know how to be in a relationship. It was like I had, ah, caution tape on my heart. After you left, I realized I was in love with you.”

Anthony does look up at that, looking displeased. “You-”

“We’re on two different sides of the abyss, Anthony,” Steven continues. “I burned the bridge. I needed the space, but when I was ready, I didn’t know how to rebuild that fucking bridge.” Biting the inside of his cheek and cursing internally at the sharp burst of pain, Steven hides his mouth behind the coffee mug, staring at the whorls of wood in the table.

“I’m with Jess,” Anthony says pointlessly, as if Steven didn’t already know that.

“Yeah,” Steven says into his coffee, drinking as much of it as he can stand in one go. “She’s nice. Pretty, crude, just right for you.”

Anthony’s fingers come unlaced and his hands skid over the table to come rest in front of his chest. “She is. I love her, you know that? I still love you. But not that way. Not anymore.”

Steven looks back at Anthony, who’s finally staring right at him with those dark, endless eyes Steven had seen in every dream for the last few months. “I wanted to feel something again,” he says, finally in response to Anthony’s question. “I needed a good punch in the face to feel better about myself, and I knew you couldn’t be the one to do it.”

“And what happened?” Anthony asks, eyes skipping down to Steven’s bruised knuckles and back up to his face.

Steven smiles, small and wry and with an ache in his cheek. “I wanted to return a couple punches, too. Anger’s never been something I could deal with healthily.”

“Damn it, Steven,” Anthony says, and Steven drinks again, fingers tightening around the ceramic.

“You’re…” Steven struggles to find the words, mouth working without noise. “You’re you, Anthony. My best friend. The only love song I’ll sing. It’s killing me, not being with you, not even as a friend anymore. I hate it, I hate that I need you so much, that I can’t go a day without thinking of you. I miss you so much, Anthony. You friend-broke my heart, real-broke my heart, and I know I’m the one the burned that bridge, but,” Steven doesn’t remember standing, but his fingers are spelling their hurt out onto Anthony’s face. Embarrassed, he grabs them back, tucks them under his arms, looks away from Anthony’s wide, hurt eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I burned us down, I caused that rift and that distance, but I’m never going to get tired of you. Please don’t let me go. I’ll take anything.”

Anthony pushes himself to his feet, cupping his big hands around Steven’s jaw, careful not to hurt him, like he’s some delicate thing. Steven is made to look at Anthony, hoping dearly that he doesn’t look like an accusation.

Slow, steady, Anthony presses light kisses to Steven’s brow, around his eyes and over his cheeks, and he’s so infinitely tender when his lips finally meet Steven’s that tears sting at Steven’s eyes.

Steven turns away, stepping back and feeling the near-claustrophobic press of Anthony: his scent, the phantom feel of his lips, the pervading sense of his proximity. Steven puts a hand over his mouth, pressing hard to feel the pain, the cuts reopening and weeping onto his fingers.

“I’m sorry, Anthony,” Steven says, feeling nauseous, like he wants to sink into the floor. If this is what moving on feels like, he doesn’t ever want to.

“Steven?” Anthony says, moving toward him, but Steven keeps the distance, feeling tears burning more ferociously at his eyes and blinking hard to try and dispel them.

A sob cracks from between Steven’s lips, and he squeezes his eyes closed. He puts his other hand to his chest, backing into the wall.

“Steven,” Anthony says again, concerned.

Steven shakes his head, again and again. “You should go,” he manages to choke out. Eventually, Anthony does.

Steven’s coffee goes cold, and later he can’t sleep, so he wraps himself in a sweater that smells like Anthony and lets himself wish for what he lost. His hands ache, his cheeks ache, his chest aches, and Steven is a festering wound. Maybe guilt will be what gets him, in the end.


End file.
